Call of the Crystals
by ZaloMarcos
Summary: Ten years after the defeat of MaloMyotismon, the DigiDestined are now the most powerful celebrities in the world. For some it is harder than others to adjust. But when control of the DigiWorld passes into the wrong hands, can they abandon their privileged lives, or are they already too far gone. . .
1. Epilogue

_Dear Mr Izumi,_

_Upon hearing about your recent declining to once again run for office in the upcoming Presidential elections, I must use this opportunity to express my sincerest disappointment._

_Of the names that have been banded about the media as to who my successor will be, yours was the single name that I wanted to see. Naturally given your history, your abilities and your dedication over the last ten years to the cause, I fail to see a valid reason for you to come to this decision. _

_We have reached a critical point in the lifespan of the Digital World and the direction that it takes in the next five years will have a huge impact on a number of key global issues. You know this as well as I do and to argue otherwise would demonstrate a level of ignorance I would not have attributed to you. It is my firm belief that should Ishizaki gain power we will be heading into a period of great uncertainty and danger. Whilst showing on the surface a great deal of humility and mercy, his policies on viral Digimon are both controversial and irrational and should not be allowed to come to fruition. Furthermore the move to make the DCS avaiable to the general public carries a tremendous risk, but on a personal level, would take away from yours and your companions achievements greatly. _

_Whilst it is with regret that I must put this upon you, I would hope that you would reconsider. Whilst the majority of your companions have seemingly, in some capacity, disregarded their duties to the Digital World, I remain grateful for the work you have done over the last ten years. But should Ishizaki come to power, that good work is likely to be undone overnight._

_Please get back to me in due course,_

_Your friend,_

_Aiko Haruko_

_Digital World, President of the_

Izzy never responded to this email. He didn't respond to any emails now. As he gazed out from his vantage point across the wide open plains, rich with green and interrupted only by the forest, he made the most of one of the few privileges he had left. His laptop buzzed beside him. His inbox, full, mostly from members of the public asking him the most pointless questions. His trust had been badly shaken in the system that had been there to protect his anonymity.

Having just turned eighteen, Izzy was well on his way to becoming a man. Truth be told, his maturity had peaked from a very young age and he had been through more in his young life than most would in their entire existence. But now he was being expected to couple this natural maturity with very adult responsiblities, to make decisions that would impact the world.

He always felt a slight deal of resentment that he had been left to deal with the situation by himself. He had been quick to use his considerable talents to amend the Digital World as best he could after the defeat of MaloMyotismon. As he grew older, he saw the Digital World as less of the living entity it was and more as an elaborate computer program, plagued with viruses and malware, and he hated himself for it. When the adults got hold of it, he'd had no choice but to go along with it. Without the support of his fellow DigiDestined, and with other problems taking precident in his life, he began to forget all that he and the others had been through. At times, he even found himself questioning whether it had happened at all.

This was around the time that a book had been published. The story. Their journey. Those that witnessed the Digimon first hand knew of the eight children that had been intrinsically linked with the attacks. Then after MaloMyotismon had been dealt with, a further four were held in a similar regard. Only in Japan were their accomplishments truly recognised. Then the book was published. And a furore insued.  
It became a worldwide phenomenon. Social networking allowed the truth to travel instantly. Within days of the publication the twelve went from being revered by their friends and family to being adored by millions worldwide. Izzy, so at home with seclusion and solitude, had not taken well to the sudden spotlight. So he disappeared, assuming a new pseudonym and altering his appearance whilst regaining his right to enter his beloved Digital World. The place where he felt most at home.

In exchange, he returned to his research on the Digital World. He was reunited with his close friend Tentomon. He learned of the extensive virus protection work that had been implemented into the Digital World. He had revelled in it being used as an untapped resource for scarce products. In the same way that the Digimon had been able to physically appear in the real world, other entities, such as food, gas and coal were being programmed into the Digital World, before being transferred into the real world. Izzy had never been happier. He had never before fully considered the enormous potential the Digital World could have.

The trouble started when other countries and companies began to get wind of it. A seemingly unlimited resource with an incredible vastness of space? Japan could practically smell the drooling of the hounds who were after it.

It didn't take long before money came into play. Huge sums of money poured into Japan in return for access to the Digital World. Contracts were drawn, many of which Izzy was involved in. Greed dictated and reared it's ugly head. Soon the programmers who had worked so hard to turn the Digital World into something truly productive began to leave, content that they had been turned into millionaires in a matter of months. Their replacements had neither the skill nor genuine care to benefit the Digital World. Programmers from other countries began to put their stamp on the it. Soon the Digimon themselves began to suffer, with data constantly being manipulated and transferred around them. They began to grow hostile once again.

Eventually, politics came into play. Izzy, now a prominent figure in trying to keep the Digital World running smoothly and still safe from the frenzy of celebrity status, convinced the twelve countries who had access to the Digital World to meet and evaluate. His knowledge of the program was far greater than that of any other designer, so his threats to override this precious access were reluctantly adhered to.  
There, a President was elected, a Board was put into place, and rules and regulations were devised. Izzy himself had been put forward as President but declined, instead nominating his mentor and close friend Aiko Hurako. He was unanimously elected for the term of twelve months.

Izzy could not have known the fire that he had ignited and chosen to play with at that time. Within weeks of the appointment, Izzy's true identity had been leaked. Once again, the attention of the general public reached fever pitch, now that the elusive twelfth member of the DigiDestined had a face. He was hounded by well wishers, criticised openly in the press for 'abandoning his duty to the public.' His one escape was the Digital World.

And that's where he had stayed. For the past six months he had hidden himself away from everything. He had been betrayed but by who he had no idea. He had his friend Tentomon with him and that's all that he needed. He had the cool air and the trees and the plants, a million miles away from the cold, metallic nature of the technological environment he had dedicated the last three years of his life to.  
His natural instinct was to fight back, to find out who did this to him. But with the election imminent and, more importantly, his companions scattered around their world enjoying themselves, he was loathed to admit that, for once, he didn't have the answer.


	2. Chapter 2

So this is my first contact with anyone who may stumble across my story. Guess I should explain a few things.

This is an ongoing project which I am currently writing and I will try my absolute best to keep updating regularly.

The story will be told in third person and certainly for the first few chapters will jump between perspectives, so apologies if this becomes a bit confused.

Happy reading!

_ENGLAND STUNNED BY A RELENTLESS JAPAN_

_England often have a knack for frustrating it's citizens with it's sporting escapades, but rarely will the nation look back on a game with such a feeling of bewilderment. Going into the game as heavy favourites they were trounced 4-1 by a Japanese team who boast no reputable names._

_At least, not in a footballing sense. Taichi Kamiya is not a name many would rush to put on their Fantasy Football lists, but in terms of worldwide acclaim, he's up there with any of England's top stars. And today he proved he's not a bad fooballer too._

_With two goals and two assists, Kamiya, 20, has propelled himself into further limelight. With one goal deftly finished followed by another brutal strike from 30 yards, Kamiya is showing himself to be a class act._

_"It was a tough game but we played very well. The whole team contributed. I would not have scored the goals had it not been them," Kamiya stated modestly after the match. _

_Kamiya is famous for his work with Digital Monsters._

EXTRACT FROM THE SUNDAY GAZZETTE, U.K.

Tai had decided that he liked England. The crowd had been excellent despite seeing their heroes trounced. And the women were nice to look at.

He had swiftly changed into his formal attire. He had only been off the pitch for two hours and already he had been frog-marched into a limousine to take him to his next appointment, an appearance on a top British chat show. He pretty much had to change in the limo such was the tightness of his schedule. He huffed at the thought of his teammates relaxing at the hotel, or worse yet, getting a full body massage off a Brit.

The excitement of Tai's appearance in England was insurmountable. The country had never welcomed a member of the Digi Destined to it's shores. He had been treated like royalty from the moment he'd set foot off the plane. He had made it clear however that he was to make no public appearance until after the match. His soccer career came first and foremost.

The limo had thrashed through the streets of London, narrowly missing lamp posts, traffic lights, elderly ladies, before screeching to a stop outside the television studios, where a huge crowd had gathered. The crowd was being marshalled by several hulking individuals who Tai wavered would give Greymon a fair fight.

He froze for a moment. Greymon. It was the first time he'd thought of his old friend in years.

He was swiftly removed from his daze as two of the aforementioned hulks man handled him through the crowds of screaming girls and several star struck boys. The Digi Destined were adored by boys and girls alike.

In no time he was being fitted with a microphone and inundated with calls to 'smile' and 'no swearing.' Tai had long accepted that his life seemed to move in fast forward.

"Now," boomed the host with a questionable fake tan and striking white teeth. "Tonight we have a very special guest. When he's not ripping apart soccer teams almost single handedly he's defending the world from terrifying monsters,whilst still maintaining that extraordinary hair.

Please, give it up for, Tai Kamiya!"

On the other side of the world, in a hospital ward, a woman heard a beeping noise from the handbag down beside her. Thinking it was another well wisher, she fished for her phone, but to her surprise it remained unanimated. The beeping was coming from something else. She continued to fish around until her hand clasped around something like a phone, but at the same time, very different from a phone.

A man was also present, flicking through the channels of the television. He was irritated that he could not find what he was looking for.

"We've seen him on television before dear," said the woman gently.

"Yes but not in England and I made a promise," muttered the man.

The beep of the strange phone stopped, but the beeping of the machines that surrounded the girl in the bed continued in their relentless desire to keep the girl alive. Just two weeks shy of her seventeenth birthday, this was to be the start of her third week in the hospital. The woman's eyes shone as finally, her husband had found the channel they were looking for.

"I must say Tai," said the host. "I think the first question everyone wants to know is, how do you keep that hair like that?"

A generous ripple of laughter from the crowd.

"Err, lots of mousse," said Tai sheepishly.

A much more hearty laugh from the crowd, followed by a ripple of applause.

"He still hasn't cut it!" said the woman. "It's a wonder he can head the ball!"

The man smiled and took his seat on the other side of the bed. He looked down at the girl, brushing the hair from her moist forehead, before clasping her pale hand in his.

"Now Tai," said the host once the crowd had recomposed itself. "Tell us, what has the last year or so been like for you?"

Tai paused for a moment.

"Well, it's been crazy!" he replied.

"I can imagine," said the host, flashing his pearls, "I imagine it's strange that everyone knows who you are."

"It is," said Tai nodding. "You know, you get strangers come up to you in the street and they all want to know the same things. I can't blame them. And obviously people are literally shoving stuff in your face for you to sign them."

"I'd imagine it's not too different to being chased by a. . .Kubadamon, was it?"

"Kuwagamon," Tai corrected, "and yes sometimes I'd rather be chased by him!"

More laughter from the crowd. Tai always thought to himself how much funnier he seemed i front of a crowd.

"Yes Kuwagamon," said the host.

"It's just something that we've had to get used to," said Tai.

"Ah you say we," said the host, feeling like he was getting to the crux of the interview, "you are of course referring to the other eleven?"

"Not just them," said Tai, "but our families as well. My Mum's blog has almost a million followers!"

A generic cooing came from the audience, followed by a wolf whistle. The woman could feel herself blushing.

"Almost a million?!" exclaimed the man, his eyes wide.

"I uploaded a couple of baby photos and they went crazy for it," she explained.

"A million is quite impressive. I imagine you get as many marriage proposals as that?"

"Err, not quite," said Tai grinning. More laughing.

The man sighed with pride, before looking down at the girl once again.

"Do you think she can hear?" he asked solemnly.

The woman nodded, but failed to make eye contact, still gripping her daughter's hand in her own hand, and the phone like device in the other.

"Is there a lady in your life Tai?" said the host, leaning forward slightly.

"No not right now."

"Because there was that whole thing with one of your fellow destiny people was there not?"

Tai grinned again.

"I've apparently dated them all at one point, even Matt!" he said. More overly enthusiastic laughter. "But no I haven't dated any of them."

"Do you still see any of them?" asked the host, leaning in further still.

"No, I can't say that I do," said Tai after a pause. "All except my sister of course."

"Ah yes, Kari isn't it?" said the host, to which a huge cheer erupted from the crowd and continued for several moments.

The woman looked down at her daughter.

"Do you hear that sweetheart? They're cheering for you."

The man looked to the screen at his son, who, at the mention of his sister, momentarily gave away his true pain, before his mask was back on. Only a parent could've seen it.

"Yep, my sister Kari," said Tai. "She's err, she's not feeling to well at the moment."

The crowd already knew this, of course. Nothing was secret anymore.

"And of course we wish her all the best in her recovery," said the host, before another heartfelt, respectful applause rattled around the studio.

"We will hear more from Tai after the break."

As the face of his son disappeared off of the screen, the father could have sworn he felt a twitch from his daughters hand.

The fires were now beginning to spread and intensify. Even with the rain that had appeared from nowhere did it not stop. Meramon was burning out of control.

Even from the distance he was, Agumon could hear his screams of agony. He clutched the small amount of food he'd been able to find close to his bony chest, before making his way back into the cave.

There he set about making his own fire. He didn't want a repeat of the previous day, during which his Pepper Breath had been replaced with his friend Patamon's move, a Boom Bubble. It blew the shelter clean away and now was not a good time to be without shelter.

"I found some of those mushrooms you like," he said. There was no response. He hadn't expected one. "I'll just put them here next to you."

He placed the mushrooms right beside a green glove, which covered the paws of a sleeping Gatomon. She was shivering. Agumon looked down at his friend with sadness. Every few minutes, Gatomon's figure would appear hazy and fuzzy. She had barely woken for three weeks. Agumon placed a paw over the top of her head, before aiming at the pile of twigs he had assembled.

His Pepper Breath was working again. One good thing.


	3. Chapter 3

_In this day and age the aspiration of 'being famous' seems to be a genuine life goal for a lot of youngsters. Of course when such an array of riches becomes instantly available to these youngsters it quite often has a predictably detrimental effect on their well being._

_Everyday our newspapers are filled with photos of individuals who are little more than children falling out of cars, dating a different person every week, or otherwise involved in some form of scandal. _

_Is this a life that I would want for my kids? Absolutely not. Kids grow up far too quickly these days and of course they always know best. _

_It is not my right to criticise or tell these individuals what to do. They are their own person and must make their own way in life. But for the young singers, dancers, actors, sportsmen and, more recently these DigiDestined, I can only see a dark and sad ending._

_Extract from L.M. Johnson's_ 'Honey Trap'

Under the scalding sun in the midst of a barren plain of land, a girl hammered in the final nail of a school that she, along with a team of dedicated volunteers, had been constructing for the past six months. It consisted of two classrooms and a clean, cool area for sport. There were tables and chairs, a blackboard, multi-coloured chalks, exercise books and pencils, things that the children of the school had never seen before. Such simple things that the girl always tried to appreciate.

Sora put down the hammer and wiped the sweat from her brow. Her usually striking red hair had been bleached slightly and was far lighter than before. She hopped down from the ladder and landed gracefully.

She took cover under a shelter that had been temporarily built to house the team. She made her way through the modest set up towards the back of the shelter, where a man was working, buried under stacks of paperwork.

"I hope those orders are going to be completed on time Joe," said Sora playfully.

Joe looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

"It's only filling in boxes Sora," he muttered. "Can you lend a hand?"

"Sure," she said, and she took half of the stack and a pencil before settling down on the ground. Joe rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"It'll all be worth it when you see the school," said Sora, noticing her friends fatigue. "But you can't see it until these are done. That's the deal."

"I'll get them done," he grumbled. As he went to grab the topmost sheet of paper, his elbow clipped a couple of folders, upon which a mug of tea was sitting, and the whole lot went tumbling to the ground, despite his best efforts to salvage at least one item. The mug cracked and muddy brown liquid shot in every direction.

"Oh shoot," said Joe. He grabbed the folders before the tea seeped into the precious papers.

"Joe!" cried Sora.

"It's not my fault!" he replied instantly, fishing into his utility bags for rolls of toilet roll.

"Why do you even have tea?!" said Sora, hopping to her friends aid. "It's a million degrees out there!"

"Hardly a million," said Joe, suppressing a smirk, "more like one-twenty; that would be my guess. Besides I like a few home comforts."

"Couldn't you have just settled on a ton of photographs or something less. . .wet?"

Sora held up a single, sad piece of paper that had failed to stay within the comfy confines of the folder. It was beyond saving.

"Oh shoot," repeated Joe, "I'll have no idea which bit of paper that is, meaning I'll have to sift through the entire lot to find the missing page number, then try and. . ."

"Joe, it's fine," said Sora, "you can still see the page number!"

"Oh," said Joe, looking a little sheepish. "So you can."

Sora closed her eyes and shook her head.

"When was the last time you took a rest?" she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I forget."

"Well take a break. Go make some more tea and we'll sit in the shade outside. The rest of the team should be back soon."

"I really should finish. . ."

"Joe, I wasn't asking," said Sora firmly, "outside, now. Wait. Tea, then outside!"

And with that she left a dishevelled Joe with a heap of soggy bog roll.

Five minutes later, and miraculously without any further mishap, the two of them were sitting under a huge canopy. A soft breeze was blowing, kicking the dust up. From their vantage point they could make out children playing in the village. The sun was scalding and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

For the two of them, but for Sora in particular, in had been an essential getaway. She had always planned to do some humanitarian work of some kind, but the timing could not have been more ideal. Things had been getting out of hand. Every day she read stories in the papers, or online, of supposed rendez-vous with various bachelors, and a large number of married or spoken for men. The paparazzi had figured out her favourite places months ago. She could no longer go to her favourite coffee shop on her street without being hounded. She could no longer pop into the local hairdressers for a quick chat with her best friend from school. She envied her friend and her insignificant life. Sora wanted nothing more than that.

For Joe it had been a lot easier. Never one to fit in with the 'cool' crowd or do something extravagent, the tabloids had largely glazed over Joe. Though he had been the target of two incessant stalkers and had largely been shunned by prominent members of the medical profession for his supposed celebrity lifestyle.

That had been the point when the two of them had decided to come here. Away from everything. Sora had come up with the project and using the little endorsement money she had, for she refused nearly every endorsement contract shoved in front of her face, she had made it a reality. For Joe the idea of doctoring in this place was a no brainer too. He didn't have the resources or means to carry out extensive research, but he was making a difference. He was saving lives. He couldn't ask for more.

Now that the school had been built though, Sora knew that her time here was coming to an end and a return to her homeland was imminent. She sighed sadly.

"From here it looks amazing," said Joe, looking at the school. "Do you think I could. . ."

"No!" said Sora, "not until everyone else gets back. Be patient Joe."

Joe didn't argue. He went back to looking down at his laptop. Sora continued to stare out at nothing and everything.

"Are you going to stay here?" she asked.

Joe paused for a few moments.

"I think so," he said, "I don't see any reason to go back."

She had known he would say that.

"I'm jealous," she said, forcing a smile.

Joe looked to her.

"Maybe you don't have to go home," said Joe. "They'll be organisations clambering over themselves to get you on board one of their own projects."

"I know," she replied. "I just can't help feel like. Like, I'm running away."

"Running away? You're not running away from anything. You would have done this regardless of whether we had been, found out."

"I would have," said Sora.

"Well there you go," said Joe, returning his gaze to the screen. A story had popped up. A photo of a scruffy looking guy stumbling out of a nightclub accompanied it.

"I see our old friend is up to his old tricks," said Joe chuckling.

Sora looked down at the screen. The image of Davis drunk out of his mind with a girl on each arm was all too familiar.

"He'll never learn," she smiled.

Part of her wish she could embrace the lifestyle that had been forced upon them. Davis certainly did.

It was at that point that something altogether unexpected happened. Joe tapped the side of his screen as it began to flicker. A buzzing sound rattled through their ears.

"It's never done this before," said Joe frowning.

Sora was not focused on the laptop. She was far more preoccupied with what was going on in the sky.

Clouds were beginning to form. Not just whispy white ones though. Dark and menacing. The wind whistled ominously.

"Joe," she said slowly, her eyes wide.

"I know," he said, "sponsors gave me the damn thing, I knew I should have brought my own!"

Sora grabbed Joe's head and jerked his gaze upwards. The clouds were now beginning to swirl and dance a vicious ballet. Joe pushed his glasses further up his nose.

The two of them watched as the sky lit up. Thunder rumbled. No rain. Joe's laptop began to vibrate. Lines of code were scrawling the screen. The wind forced him to grab it for fear of it being tossed into the air. The cables holding the canopy upright were straining.  
"Sora, we need to move from under here," said Joe, trying to remain calm.

"Joe I'm already out," she shouted over the wind. "Move yourself!"

Joe had been daydreaming. Sora had already scarpered. He picked up his laptop, his utility bag, and scrambled to his feet. Joe was struggling to keep a grip on the psychotic laptop.

Then came a tremendous crash of thunder that made the both of them jump. Screams and crying could be heard from the villagers. Only a couple were still outside, either too in awe to move, or scared stiff.

Then the sky was plunged into a white flash, followed by an almighty bang. Sora had not shielded her eyes and her vision blurred.

"Joe!" she cried.

"Joe!" came a second voice.

Joe's heart skipped a pulse.

"That. That sounded like. . ."

Joe!" Sora screamed. "The school's on fire!"

Joe once again was snapped back into reality. The flames were being fanned by the howling winds and were threatening to leap onto the base. Sora had already set off at a sprint towards the well. She reached it and grabbed the rope, yanking the bucket up as fast as she could. She hauled the bucket up and out and tore back to the school. The wind buffeted against her, stinging her.

And then it didn't.

The wind had stopped. The thunder had ceased. The clouds were departing. She carried on running until she reached the school and tossed the water over the burning timber.

It was fruitless. The water hit the flames and hissed rebelliously.

Sora sunk to her knees, her eyes welling up, as before her she saw her brain child, her raison d'etre, crumbling to the ground. The flames were relentless. It wouldn't take long.

So why weren't the beams crashing to the ground? Why were the walls still upright? Sora looked through sore eyes and tilted her head. She brushed her knees down as she got to her feet.

The flames were indeed licking the entire school. It was ablaze. But the structure still stood firm. This could not have been an ordinary fire, but she had seen the lightning hit. She had seen it with her own eyes.

Hadn't she?

She could feel her breath begin to quicken as the sound of Joe's panicked voice and pounding footsteps got louder.

"Sora!" he shouted. "Get away from the school! It's going to collapse any second!"

Sora began to step towards the school, her eyes fixated on the flames, only stopping when Joe wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He was breathing heavily.

"Sora are you crazy?!" he panted. He looked to the school.

"It's beautiful," she said softly.

Joe took his glasses off and rubbed them on his mucky shirt before replacing them. Sora slipped out of Joe's grip and continued to move towards the school.

"Sora be careful," Joe hissed, but he too began tentatively stepping. Sora had reached the school. She placed one hand on the door. No pain.

"It's ok Joe," she said giddily. "Come on!"

Joe could hardly dare to believe it. He worked with facts and hard research. He had thought he'd left the world of magic mumbo jumbo behind many years ago. Then he remembered the voice that he thought he'd heard, the sight he thought he'd seen on his laptop screen before it had started sparking.

Sora had pushed the door open. A faint, cool whooshing sound swept through the was no damage anywhere. Sora held out her hands in front of her. The flames licked her skin forming patterns in the air.

Joe had poked his head through the door, looking with his mouth slightly agape. He ran a finger down the side of the wall and rubbed it against another finger.

"No trace of anything," he said.

"Joe come and look at this," called Sora.

Joe hesitated, taking another thorough look around, before tiptoeing inside.

"Well," he said, "the school sure looks nice."

He looked to Sora. She had her hands on her knees and was fixated on something on the ground. Joe saddled up to her and looked to where she was looking.

Down on the ground, wedged in deep, was a large black cube, glowing softly.


	4. Chapter 4

_So now you have been reintroduced to the whereabouts of five of the Digi Destined. I am trying to recreate as much of the original characters as possible in regards to what they say and how they act, so I hope I'm doing a good job with that._

_Carry on!_

_Two weeks until Presidential election. . ._

In a posh, top of the range apartment in the centre of Tokyo, a girl searched for her missing skirt. She fished for it under the sofa, the duvet, in and amongst the empty beer cans, before finally noticing it slung across the top of the television. Wobbling slightly, she went over to it, before seeing a wallet perched beside it. Without hesitation, she opened it, took out a handful of notes, before placing it back down.

"Making me pay for the taxi indeed," she muttered to herself, "cheek."

Then she went across to the front door, taking one last look at the snoring, naked teenager strewn out across the bed covers, before shutting it softly behind her.

A few moments later, a tall, sleek man came out of another door. He was wearing an expensive suit and had his hair slicked perfectly to one side. His sunglasses clung to the top of his open shirt and he wore a gold ring on either hand. In his hand was a briefcase made of the finest leather. As he made his way to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. A single strand of hair had fallen out of place.

"This just won't do," he said to himself.

He took out a tiny comb from one of his many pockets and meticulously placed the strand back in it's rightful place. Then he went out to the kitchen, took out a carton of orange juice and a measuring cylinder. He poured the juice into the cylinder until it reached precisely half way, before moving it into a glass and downing it in one.

Meanwhile, the snoring mess in the front room was beginning to stir. He forced one eyelid open and then the other, his eyeballs jiggling in their sockets as they adjusted to the real world again.

"Sandra?" he grumbled.

"She left eleven minutes ago," said the guy in the suit. "Based on the fact that your wallet has been moved slightly I assume she may have pocketed your money before she left."

The guy in the bed collapsed back onto his pillow and let out a groan.

"Was she worth it?" said the guy in the suit.

"I can't remember," the other muttered. "Why am I not in my apartment?"

"You lost your keys," said the guy in the suit. "You called me at 3.28 this morning and asked me to let you and Sandra, and Sally, and Keira, and Lola I think her name was, in."

The guy in the bed started laughing before holding his hands groggily to his head.

"Thanks Ken," he said.

"Here," said Ken, "another key to your apartment. I had one cut the other day while you were passed out."

"Ah sweet," said the guy in the bed, as he went to get up.

"Davis please put on some pants before collecting your key," said Ken holding up a hand in front of his face.

Davis made little effort to cover his modesty, but he did as he was told. He fished around lazily for his underwear but couldn't find it, so he wrapped a shirt around his waist.

"She was hot right?" asked Davis reaching for his key.

"She is not the kind of woman I would pursue," said Ken, "but she certainly had a charm about her."

"Good," said Davis, looking pleased with himself.

"I must go to work," said Ken looking down at his diamond studded watch. "I trust you'll be back at yours when I get back."

"Maybe," said Davis, going over to the television and picking up a controller for the games console. "But your apartment is so much cleaner than mine."

"Naturally," said Ken smirking. "At the very least could you clean up the mess you made last night?"

"Sure thing buddy," said Davis. He jiggled about an upstanding can of beer and was slightly disappointed to find it empty. "Just remember to be out sharpish tonight yeah? Don't forget we've got Matt's gig tonight!"

"I shall be out with adequate time to spare," said Ken. "Goodbye."

Davis grunted. His attention had already moved to the screen. He always gave a little smile whenever he saw his own face looking back at him.

The game had sold as well as anyone could have expected, such was it's content, selling more copies on it's initial release than any other game in history. Davis was obsessed with it. Well aware of his own adventure in the Digital World, the game gave him a chance to relive what the original Digi Destined experienced. And with Ken's vast knowledge of computers and some clever hacking, he had been able to add himself to the original story line, and of course, make his stats so much better than the others. In this version of the game, Davis was the rallying point that the rest of the team could not do without, and his partner Veemon was equally as powerful as WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon.

Davis tried his best to not take life too seriously for as long as possible. Rather than try and fight the drastic change in lifestyle that he and his companions had faced, Davis had embraced it whole-heartedly. Whilst he did live the life of a rock star more than most rock stars did, he made countless public appearances and was always happy to stop for photographs and sign autographs. If any scandal happened to come his way, he simply shrugged it off. He sighed as he saw the digital version of Kari walk through the forest.

"I really should go and visit again soon," he said to himself.

The day passed without much incident. Davis was glad for the time he had to just sit and do nothing and his throbbing headache slowly eased. Eventually he thought he'd better head back. After stuffing all of the empty beer cans, wine bottles and takeaway boxes into a rubbish bag, he left Ken's apartment.

The weather outside looked deceptively warm and Davis was still in his get up from the previous night, and whilst he'd been warmed from the alcohol in his system then, he had no such luxury now. His journey home was of course made longer by people coming up to him for photos, to talk about pointless things that had happened to them, to ask him questions about the Digital World, and for the odd kiss, so that by the time he had reached home he was shivering.

"What kind of person asks another to kiss their puppy?" he muttered to himself.

His own apartment was bigger than Ken's, but it would be hard to believe with the amount of clutter that festered in all the rooms. Davis was a sucker for freebies and was always getting fan mail through the post which he promised himself he would read, but the pile of unread letters had steadily grown and was not teetering dangerously on a desk in the corner. His walls were covered with various posters, many of which had himself and the others beaming back at him. He had hoards of DVD's that he never had time to watch, souvenirs from all the countries that he had visited, as well as large ornaments that he had spontaneously taken a liking to and bought. He made his way into his bedroom, wading through all the clothes on the floor, before collapsing onto his bed. He was snoring in an instant.

The sound of his doorbell buzzing awoke him. He coughed and spluttered as he stumbled back out through his bedroom and answered the door.

Before him stood two young men, both wearing sunglasses, hats and big coats. Ken's blue hair gave him away.

"I told you he wouldn't be ready," he said, smirking slightly.

"I expected as much," said the one on the right, in a deep, husky voice.

"What are you doing here?" said Davis rubbing his face, "the concert's not for another few hours."

"Better check your watch Einstein," said the one on the right.

"I lost it the other day," said Davis shrugging.

"It's almost seven," said Ken. "We have an hour."

"So hurry up and get ready," said the other impatiently.

"Chill out Cody," said Davis. "I'll just sling on a pair of jeans and a new shirt, bit of cologne and I'll be set. I only wanted a little nap."

"You're not going to shower?" said Cody looking slightly aghast.

"That's what the cologne's for!" Davis chirped cheerfully.

Cody looked as though his face had been hit by a brick. Ken remained largely expressionless.

"May we come in and wait?" asked Ken.

Davis didn't say yes but left the door open as he went back into his bedroom. Cody's face did not change much as he went into the front room.

"What a mess," he grumbled.

"Actually this is quite tidy," Davis called from the bedroom.

Ken sniggered.

"How is your training coming Cody?" he asked.

"Not so great," Cody replied. "I find the new trainer very condescending and rude."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Ken. "When are the Championships?"

"Two weeks from now," he said. "I don't think I'm going to be ready."

"You set yourself very high standards Cody," said Ken. "What you perceive to be average is probably the average competitors best."

"I know that," said Cody, "but these are my first Championships and I don't want to leave empty handed."

Ken nodded in acknowledgement. He too was unable to comprehend second best.

Davis trundled out of his bedroom ten minutes later, hair and clothes immaculate and skin gleaming.

"Quite a transformation," said Ken, who once again was donned in a smart shirt and trousers.

"Thanks," said Davis. "Now remember guys. This concerts going to be massive. It's Matt's first live gig on his tour and the crowds are going to be mega hyped. Plus with him and three other Digi Destined out at the same place at the same time the paps are going to be everywhere."

"I'm aware of that," said Ken bluntly.

"Him and three others?" said Cody frowning. "So you don't think TK will be there?"

"Course he won't," scoffed Davis, "he never goes anywhere these days does he."

"No," said Cody, shaking his head sadly. He had not seen TK for well over six months.

"Now let's get outta here!" chirped Davis, bouncing out of the door.

"I've arranged for my driver to meet us outside," said Ken, shutting Davis' door for him.

"Ah good thinking," said Davis. "Didn't much fancy the subway."

The journey to Matt's concert passed without incident. Davis cracked open the beer and had picked up where he'd left up. Neither Cody nor Ken drank; they simply watched as Davis finished a can before crushing it against his hard head. As they neared the site they could feel the palpable rise in the atmosphere.

Whilst there was no planned seating at the concert, there was an area cordoned off for the three of them and other so called celebrity lumineries. Cody hated the term with a passion. He knew for a fact that he would not recognise another person who they were to be sharing the area with. Cody had matured and grown into a strapping young man, frequently topping polls in teen girls magazines, but he paid no attention to any of this. He was focused on his Kendo and nothing else. He was going to be a champion.

The lights on stage dimmed and the crowd sensed what was coming, erupting in a blaze of screaming and cheering. As expected, word had quickly spread of their presence and the security team were struggling with the sheer weight of people trying to get a look at them. Davis wasn't helping, chatting to them and geeing them up further.

The opening sounds of Matt's signature song sent them into a further frenzy, just as the rain began to fall. The band being visible on stage at least relieved Ken of the relentless attention he was receiving.

"Typical," shouted Cody, gesturing to the sky.

Davis was paying no attention to the music, or the weather. Ken however, had also shifted his focus from the stage.

He looked down at his suit and the rain that had struck it and frowned. Rather than running down it's surface, it was sticking. He pinched a globule between two of his fingers and held it up to his face, before looking up to the sky. The rain was getting heavier. Some in the tight crowd were becoming restless as the pushing and shoving started. Others had noticed the same thing as Ken.

By the end of Matt's opening song, the floodgates had opened. A bodyguard had withdrawn an umbrella from out of nowhere and was trying to hold it above Ken but he gestured aggressively to stop. The crowd were starting to panic, aware that this was no ordinary rain. Davis watched with his mouth open as a raindrop the size of a snowball exploded over a section of the crowd.

"Guys now keep calm," came Matt's voice over the loudspeaker, but it was no use. The crowd were pushing for the exits, desperately trying to find any shelter that they could. There was none. Ken had been forced to finally retreat under an umbrella, which was slowly sagging under the weight of whatever was falling from the sky. Security were trying with no avail to maintain control. Matt and his band had retreated backstage.

"What is this?" called Cody, struggling to maintain his footing. His whole body was beginning to glisten and the substance was starting to gather on his shoulders and on top of his head. Before Ken could even begin to answer his question, it had stopped.

Davis wiped the goo from his eyes.

"Well that was the weirdest thing I've ever seen," he muttered. "This better not stain my shirt."

The crowd had begun to quieten as well, looking at one another with the same curious expression. Ken gathered a clump in his hands.

"It's plasma," he said.

"But where did it come from?" asked Cody.

The ground finally stopped shaking. Trees had collapsed and were slowly dissolving in front of Gabumon's eyes. Though it was an unusual way of dissolving. He had seen Digimon and aspects of the Digital World break up and reconfigure countless times before. The tree he cautiously approached was not behaving like this. He reached out a paw to touch.

"Don't!" came a voice from behind him.

Gabumon swung round. Patamon was hovering with an out stretched arm and wide eyes. Gabumon instantly noticed the difference in Patamon's colouring.

"If you touch it the same thing will happen to you as the others," squeaked Patamon.

"Others?"

Patamon turned and flapped off, gesturing for Gabumon to follow him. Gabumon watched as his little friend struggled to stay air borne. By the time he had reached a clearing, he was only slightly above the ground and panting. He pointed a stubby little claw through a hedge. When he placed a paw to move the leaves out of the way, he poked an eye through.

What he saw was a couple of Numamon. One was unmoving, staring into nothingness. It was the other that caused Gabumon's heart to lurch.  
It's colouring was completely gone. It had the shape of a Numamon but was completely see through. Bits of the pitiful creature were falling off to the ground in clumps. It looked like water. Patamon covered his eyes as without warning the Numamon collapsed into a mushy, watery pile. There was no response from the other. It too had started to drip.

Then the watery substance began to rise into the sky, glistening as it went.


	5. Chapter 5

_The genetic make-up of a Digimon is a topic that has driven the passion of biologists from the day they set foot in our world. How is it that a cluster of data can take on real human emotions and responses, whilst being able to perform abilities that are beyond the capabilities of a human?_

_Something has to drive this phenomenon, in the same way the brain drives a human. Do Digimon even have brains? And if so, what is it that makes it run. Digimon, as was seen on countless occasions during the battles of a decade ago, do not maintain a physical form when they are, for want of a better word, killed. The chunks of data that make up their existence seem to simply split and dissolve into nothingness, but of course this cannot be the case. If we are to believe that the data that makes up Digimon behaves in the same way as data we humans are familiar with, it has to go somewhere. A Digimon's body, if that is the term that we can use to describe it, has never been studied in detail, because of this dissolution. I speak for any number of experts when I say that the opportunity to study a Digimon's anatomy intimately is something of a life goal we are striving for. . ._

Extract from '_Digimon: Body and Soul' _by H. Okeido

It was the dead of night. A man walked with purpose down the back alleys of the city, keen to avoid detection. In his right hand he held a briefcase. In his left, a sack tied securely at the top.

Only a couple of hours ago, he had heard the commotion at a concert where the music, if that was what that could be described as, had been interrupted before it had really begun to get going. True, the boy and his band of non-entities had sloshed their way through the rest of their set, but by then the crowd had largely dispersed. He had watched it all, from the seclusion of an old apartment block.

He eventually stopped at an old warehouse by the harbour. The doors were locked tight. Before it he waited. It was silent, save the bells of a few vessels that passed through the harbour. He gave a short, shrill whistle.

He only had to wait a few moments before his friend arrived. He leapt down from atop the warehouse and landed with absolute precision on four paws.

The man looked at his friend and smiled. Before him stood what could be described as a magnificent wolf, save the fact that it was very different from a wolf. Its fur was of a royal violet colour and had streaks of black intertwined within. Its eyes were a piercing yellow and from the tips of its ears came wisps of long, silky fur. Its three tails moved gracefully with one another. The top of its head was covered with a surface as hard as diamonds that glistened in the moonlight

"I do not appreciate being told to hide all day."

The voice came from the wolf. The man simply shrugged.

"It was necessary to keep a low profile today," he replied.

The wolf growled slightly.

"You may hunt when this business is attended to."

The wolf grunted in approval, his tails giving a satisfied swish. Then he looked to the great steel door that was before them.

"Idiot humans," said the wolf. "Nothing here is secure in the slightest."

The man nodded as both he and the wolf walked to the door. They didn't stop. Instead they simply passed through with a slight flash, appearing on the other side in an instant.

At that exact moment, another man woke with a jolt. He immediately felt a great jab of pain sear through his skull and he went to rub, only to find that he couldn't. His hands had been tied. As has his feet. He soon realised that his vision was gone as well. Panicking, he began to struggle. His whole body had been tied to a chair.

"Save your energy," said a gruff voice. "It won't be much longer now."

The tied man did not recognise the voice. Though there was a heinous tone in the voice, so he stopped struggling.

"What is this?" wheezed the tied man, "where am I?"

"A very important meeting," the gruff man replied.

"What kind of meeting is this?" said the tied man, trying to rub his wrists. They were very sore. The gruff man didn't reply.

The tied man closed his eyes, in spite of his lack of sight, deducting that something had been tied over his head rather than a genuine lack of sight. The last thing he remembered, he had been on his way home. He had spent the day in meetings of his own, dealing with angry threats and lucrative bribes from people from all over the world. At the start of the day, he had a list of ten names. Now the list was only five. In just two weeks, he had to make one of those five a very powerful individual. His ears sharpened as he heard a peculiar sound. A sort of slushy sound, very unfamiliar, followed by a flash that gave his eyes some precious light.

"Very good," came a new voice.

The tied man heard footsteps coming towards him. Within moments, a hand had slipped over his head and pulled of the sack that was obscuring his vision. Once his eyes had adjusted, he looked up at the face of a man he recognised, and gasped.

"Ishizaki," said the tied man.

"Hello Haruko," said Ishizaki.

"What's going on?" said Haruko.

Ishizaki strode away, giving Haruko the chance to see his surroundings. He was in a bare room, with only a table upon which rested a briefcase and a tied sack. The walls were made of steel and for company there was just Haruko, the gruff-voiced man and a. . .

"Is that a wolf?" said Haruko, his eyes wide.

"The humans refer to these beasts as wolves," said Ishizaki.

"What do you mean humans?" said Haruko frowning. "What else would they be called?"

Ishizaki ignored him. The wolf's eyes pierced Haruko's stare, unblinking, menacing.

"How were your meetings today?" asked Ishizaki.

Haruko looked at Ishizaki and shook his head.

"You know I can't divulge any of that information," said Haruko. "It wouldn't be fair on the other candidates. Ishizaki, why am I tied up?"

Again Ishizaki ignored him. He had gone over to the table and reached for the sack.

"What is the meaning of this?" said Haruko, beginning to get irate. Ishizaki turned to consider the tied man.

"Think of it as a . . . presentation," he said brightly, "a case for why I should take your role."

"This is against every regulation," said Haruko, "you can't possibly think that this will help you in any way."

Ishizaki reached into the sack and upon seeing what he pulled out, Haruko's heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Ishizaki tossed the small, pink mouse so that it landed at Haruko's feet.

"But that's . . . that's a. . ."

"Digimon," said Ishizaki. "Chumon, I believe its name is."

Haruko looked down. It was indeed a Chumon, unmoving, cold and lifeless.

"Is it. . ."

"Dead?" finished Ishizaki. "For some time now."

"Then how is it here?" Haruko exclaimed. "How has he not been deleted?"

"Anything can be maintained if embalmed properly," said Ishizaki, leaning against the table. The wolf had not moved an inch. The gruff-voiced man was rolling up a sleeve.

"Ishizaki," said Haruko, "I don't know how you have done this but, the method must be shared. Finally we might learn the secrets to Digimon anatomy."

"I have no interest in investigating the nuances of how a Chumon breathes," said Ishizaki. "I merely wanted you to see what could be done, before you move on."

"If you had done this in a legitimate manner then your chances would have increased tenfold," said Haruko sadly.

"Oh my chances could not be better," said Ishizaki. "I need only know one more thing and then we'll be done."

"What's that?" said Haruko nervously.

"Have you published your list to anyone?" Ishizaki asked. "Does anyone but you know the identity of the five shortlisted candidates?"

"I will publish the list in the morning. Then the voting will begin. But you must understand that I cannot say whether or not you are on the list, despite what you have shown me tonight."

"I understand," said Ishizaki, "you are a good man Haruko."

Ishizaki turned and flipped open the briefcase. From it he withdrew a syringe and an empty test tube.

"I knew long ago that you didn't take a liking to my ideas," said Ishizaki, "ergo I know full well that I will not be on that list tomorrow."

Haruko's eyes widened. He despised needles.

"Which is a real shame," said Ishizaki, moving towards Haruko. "I have visions for the Digital World far greater than any of my opponents. But you are no different from any of them."

Haruko could feel his heart racing as Ishizaki bent down beside him. He looked from the needle towards the other man, who also had a needle between his fingers. He however seemed to be injecting something into his body.

"What are you going to do with me?" said Haruko, sweating. "If you want to be on the list that's fine. I can make it happen."

"I know you can," said Ishizaki, "but though you are a good man, you are a coward. A clever coward who will keep the list as it is and simply go into the highest protection money can afford."

Ishizaki found a vein in Haruko's arm and stabbed with the needle. Haruko gave a yelp, breathing heavily as a murky red seeped into the tube. It was over in a matter of seconds.

"Why do you need my blood?" said Haruko. "Please Ishizaki, let me go."

Ishizaki ignored him again. He went over to the other man who had finished injecting the colourless liquid into his body. Ishizaki moved to the same arm and plunged Haruko's needle in, squeezing until the contents began coursing around the man's body.

What happened next, no human had ever seen before. The man began to turn transparent. Haruko nearly wretched as he watched the man become a colourless form, whilst still maintaining his shape. But the shape then began to shift. His arms shrunk, his height lessened, his waist grew. In next to no time Haruko saw the man begin to materialise again. Then he really did wretch. The gruff voiced man stood and examined his new appearance.

"I feel so plain and hideous, came the voice, though it was no longer gruff and grating. It was calm and professional. It was Haruko's voice.

The tied Haruko had gone very pale and dizzy.

"Relax my friend," said Ishizaki. "It will soon be over."

Haruko could only muster a few words through his bile and phlegm.

"What are you?"

"I am a human, just like you," said Ishizaki, holding his palms open as if to embrace. "At least, that is what all others will think."

The Haruko standing beside him sneered.

"It's time for us to go," said Ishizaki. "Thank you Haruko for everything you have done."

Ishizaki turned to the wolf.

"Don't leave a mess," Ishizaki hissed. The wolf bared his teeth. Then Ishizaki and the other Haruko turned to the wall. The last thing the real Haruko saw before his face was ripped from his body were the two of them seeping through the wall, followed by a bright, eternal flash.


End file.
